The Fall of America: Winter Ops (17 page)

“No, I'm not, and until I tell you otherwise, you're in charge because you're the next ranking man.”  I noticed my hands were shaking as I spoke.

“I can do the job, except where are we to go?”

“Back to Pearl, and remember the housing area we were at near the shopping center, on the south side of highway 80?  We're to move into the houses on the other side of Old Brandon road.”

“My parents lived there until the fall. They both died there too, so I know the neighborhood well.  Does it matter what street we take shelter on?”

“Ballard Street, according to Colonel Lee, and up on the hill, so we're not subject to the flooding in wet weather.”

Silverwolf gave a low laugh and replied, “That whole western end of the road used to flood when heavy rains came along.”  He paused for a few minutes, cleared his throat and then added, “You know it's not likely most of us fighting the Russians right now will survive, right?  I'm sorry as hell you lost Sandra; she was a good woman, but it's not likely in two years or less, most of us alive now will still be around. It's a deadly game we play, my friend, but know she died fighting for a principal.  She died to free our country and many more will pass on before we are finally free, but it'll happen.”

“Thanks, but that won't bring her back to me.  I loved her, deeply, and now she's gone!”  I felt the tears running down my cheeks, except I didn't care.

“Do you think you're the only one to lose somebody they cared about?  Grow up, John, because there's not a person here who hasn't lost a loved one, not a single soul. Sandra was a damned fine woman and an excellent nurse, but she's dead.  Do you think she'd want you sitting around on your ass, a broken shell of the man you were before, because of her death? She'd want you to avenge her death, and that, my good friend, we'll do. Now, I'll take over command until I determine you're ready to return to your position. I know her death happened less than 24 hours ago, but get over it and do the job fast, too.”

After a Russian ration, which I shared with Dolly, I pulled the big dog close and realized she was all I had left of the old days. I hugged her and scratched her ears as I cried silently, feeling a deep soul hurting grief like I'd never felt before. At some point, exhaustion claimed me and I fell asleep.

Dawn was cold, with snow flying in all directions as we neared Pearl, Mississippi.  It was a ghost town now, with most people gone years ago, and the once beautiful yards were now overgrown with weeds and brush.

Near the top of the hill, we located a house that must have been over sixty years old, since most of the houses were constructed in the housing boom following WWII, after all the soldiers returned home. Using Veterans Affairs funding, most bought new homes, and settled in for a comfortable life.  Well, comfort, I thought, is long gone and survival is hard enough these days.

Surprisingly the front door was unlocked, so we just walked it, and I immediately felt like an intruder. The furniture was still in place, family photographs were hanging on the walls, and the fridge still had some moldy and hardened food in it.  Once power had been lost, the food had gone bad quickly. Of course it'd been ransacked, like most homes, but I couldn't help but look at the images on the walls and wondered if the people in the photos survived or not. Most I knew were dead.

Silverwolf immediately issued orders. “I want toe poppers around the house, except for a straight path out the back door.  From now on, no one uses the front door.  I want a booby-trap placed on the front door and someone will pull guard in the living room 24/7.  I also want a Claymore rigged in the yard, against the house, to cover the sidewalk and driveway.  Let's move and make this place a home.”

“Can we use the fireplace?”  Joyce asked and then leaned her sniper rifle against the arm of the sofa.

“Maybe, if the weather gets cold enough.  Now, that means it'll have to be pretty damned cold before it will be used. Let's hurry now, the snow is coming down hard, and Joyce, you can gather up some firewood or limbs to burn.”

“I'll take care of the wood.”

“Scott,” Silverwolf said, “I want you on guard as the others work.”

“I have it covered.”

I stood and started to move toward the door when Silverwolf said, “You're looking better.  What do you think of a fire in here?”

“Keep it small, about the size of a saucer and you should be fine. Remember, if the Russians come looking for us, and they will once over our attack, they'll pick up the heat with their infrared gear at night.  Also, any patrols they have out will smell our smoke. We need a place to meet if we're suddenly attacked and need to split up.”

“I'll allow a fire, because it's growing colder and as for meeting, we could meet by the old fire station, on highway 80.  Say, behind it about 200 feet.”

“That'll work and I agree we need the heat; it'll help the Russians rations go down smoother, too. The nasty-assed things are so terrible cold.”

Two hours later, Kelly, who was on guard said, “I have movement.”

There were no lights on in the house and it was dark outside. The fireplace contained a fire no larger than a cup saucer. I suspected the smoke was what brought us the unwanted attention, but it was cold out and we needed the heat.  It was still snowing, so I said, “Silverwolf, I have command now and all is well.  Joyce, move to the window and keep us covered.  Kelly, slip your NVG's down and see what you have out there.”

Minutes passed as we made our weapons ready, when Kelly said, “They're not Russians, for sure, and if I were to bet, I'd say cannibals. They look like the group that took us captive before. If so, they're fairly well armed.”

“Walsh, bring the flamethrower to the door. If we're threatened or attacked give them a few squirts and then return inside.  Fire is a well known way to scare some folks off.”

I heard the blast of a toe-popper, followed by a loud scream. I made the booby-trap on the door safe, opened the door, and Walsh stepped outside.  He immediately sent a long finger of flame from side to side. The whole area lit up like it was full daylight. Screams were heard; one man ran down the street, his clothing ablaze as the flames ate at him like a fast acting cancer.  Rifle shots were heard, followed by blasts from shotguns. I moved into the kitchen, and picked up the clacker for the Claymore mine.  Kerr armed the door again and then all moved into the kitchen with me. I allowed no return fire and a few long minutes later, I saw the door move slightly. The pin in the grenade was barely in, so if the door opened just a little more, it'd be pulled out and explode.

The fuse on the grenade was set to zero, which meant no delay at all. Suddenly, someone kicked the door open and started shooting. The grenade blast was loud in the small frame house, but nothing compared to when I blew the Claymore.  The whole door disappeared and I heard horrific screams as ball bearings struck people outside. When the dust settled we moved forward, cautiously, because we would search the dead for gear we could use.  Just outside, near where the door used to be, was a butcher's shop, with blood and meat scattered all around.  Further back, an injured man tried to run, but Kerr put a bullet in the man and down he went.  Between the grenade and Claymore, I counted fifteen bodies and three more had burned to death. Kerr had shot one, but I knew we had to move.

“Out the back. I suspect the Russians will be here and soon. Move toward the old fire station on highway 80 and do it now.”  I ordered as I looked everyone over, but saw no injuries.  Each of us wore Russian NVG's, so moving at night would pose no problem.  

“Kerr, you take point and Silverwolf, you bring up the rear.  Let's move, folks, I see headlights on the street now,” I said.

Three Russian trucks, equivalent to an American deuce and a half, stopped in front of the house and a squad of men poured from the rear of each vehicle. They approached the house cautiously, but then I heard three mines go off, followed quickly by screams of pain. I hurried to catch up with my people. The Russians would be angry.

The old fire station was just as it always was, except unmanned and deteriorating quickly.  Hoses were still stacked neatly inside, firetrucks were still parked at the ready, but each vehicle was missing a gas cap and the diesel had been stolen years ago by desperate men and women.  Food was long gone from the kitchen and the place was cold.  
It's better to be cold than dead
, I thought as we entered the recreation room and moved to sofas and chairs. Joyce immediately pulled her sleeping bag out, as did Arwood and Kelly. Walsh was downstairs keeping watch, and I didn't have to wonder about him falling asleep this night.  He'd been the guest of honor of cannibals before and then they attacked us tonight, so he would remain alert.

I walked to a far window and curled up in my sleeping bag, too. It was cold in the room and my bag was warm so I tried to sleep, but it avoided me. My mind began to fill with all sorts of things, and most were about Sandra.  
Sandra, you were a good woman, baby, and I miss you
, I thought.  

As I said earlier, my once stunning wife had been disfigured while a guest of the Russians, after she'd been raped by them countless times. During questioning, she'd turned defiant and it had cost her her beauty.  Her ears were removed, one at a time, then the tip of her nose was sliced off. It wasn't until her lips were hacked off that she began to talk, but slowly, her pain beyond endurance. More than once she'd passed out, only to awaken in the same nightmare. We'd rescued her, or what was left of her, as soon as we could, but not before she'd been physically and mentally damaged.  She'd cried the night we freed her and begged for me to shoot her, only I loved her and couldn't lay a finger on her. She was hideous with her face as it was, but over time, I grew used to it and life went on.

Most folks don't realize true love is not about looks or sex appeal, but a spiritual bond between two people.  It's deeper than physical attraction, which is shallow, and disappears over time. Sandra and I knew each other better than anyone else in the world.  Now, well, she's gone and I'm alone. Only a fool would have joined the resistance and expected both of us to survive, but I had done just that. I knew, beyond any doubt, she was still near me, because I would feel her presence at times.  

I believe in God, but I'm a poor excuse for a Christian. I'm fighting a holy war in my mind and defending a country founded on Christianity and no other religion. There is little mention of any other religion except Jews in our nation's history, if you look at it closely.  The Jewish folks I knew before and after the fall were deeply respected, and Israel was the only nation that tried to help us, but our President at the time refused help, saying, “Americans will overcome this alone.”

I knew our nation was doomed when we started bowing to the demands of the Muslims and allowing their laws to be followed, their foods to be served and their customs to be adhered to.  Our nation was known to respect other religions and we allowed other faiths, even if we disliked them, to be practiced. We were truly the only nation on earth where freedom of religion was practiced and enforced by laws. We are and always were a Christian nation,
always
, but the liberals had us twisted, and since they were in power we sat on our asses said nothing. Our lack of speaking up cost us many lives in the years before the fall of America, with wars with Muslim nations, then allowing them to immigrate to our country in large numbers and granting them almost instant citizenship.  Following that, those that spoke English well were hired for high level government positions, which was a terrible mistake, because they were bound by the Koran to kill all non-believers.  In other words, the Muslims wanted all Christian Americans dead and out of the way, and they actually had a plan organized, but the financial collapse of our nation caused many of them to return home. Those that didn't leave fast enough were hunted down by good ole boys and killed.

Then, one aspect of the collapse that always confused me is how stupid our paid politicians were at the time.  Here we were zillions of millions of dollars in debt, and they allowed four million illegal Mexicans to become citizens almost overnight. Most of these Mexicans weren't doctors, lawyers, or other professionals, but minimum wage workers, and a large number were not working at all. The Liberals stated over and over that these aliens would make our country stronger by providing workers, but if that was true, why was Mexico such a poor country?  They instantly qualified for unemployment benefits, but they'd not worked a minute in the United States. The treatment of these illegals brought instant resentment from Americans born in this nation and who had a whole different set of rules to live under.  Then, when it became known that the illegals were getting better benefits than our nation's retired military, protests began in the streets.

Lastly came the clashes with police and riot control units. Looting became such an everyday thing the evening news no longer spoke of any occurrences of looting or rioting.  At first people started sniping at police officers, blaming them for a lack of protection from looters, when in fact our society was terminally ill. Kids had grown into adults with little or no respect for each other, authority, or laws.  Finally, just before the fall, folks started attacking police stations with explosives and weapons. Civil law was about to undergo a massive change, because the first thing the President did was enact Marshall Law. Shorty after that, God withdrew his blessings on America, and we fell hard as a nation.

Soon after thinking about God being disappointed with America, I entered the dark void of sleep.

M
aster Sergeant Fedorovo awoke in a hospital, his head aching and his body sore. At first he was confused, then he remembered the partisan attack.  He raised his right hand and felt a bandage on his head, then his eyes blurred and he felt nauseated.  A few seconds later the feeling disappeared so he called out, “Nurse!”

“Oh, so you have finally awakened?” a short doctor asked as he neared the Sergeant's bed.